Playing Catch
by Meg The Maggot
Summary: Written for my little brother. Platonic Scout and Engineer friendship. Enjoy!


Try as he might, Scout couldn't get used to spending time alone. With eight brothers, there was always someone up for _something_, even if that something involved petty crime. He had never wanted to spend time alone, and even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to. They lived in what had ostensibly once been a nice house. By the time Scout was born, it was falling apart. Only half of the windows opened, and all of the windows needed new screens. All of the walls had dents and dings, relics of indoor ball games. The floors were sagging, and the ceiling threatened to collapse from water damage. The house was shabby, mismatched, patched, and above all, _small._ The bedroom Scout shared with four of his brothers was barely big enough for two beds in it. They used to fight over who had to sleep on the floor. Scout usually lost.

But that wasn't the point. If Scout was being honest with himself, he had been treated like crap for much of his childhood. He'd been pushed off the roof at least four times, and he stopped keeping track of broken bones when he was eight. He'd had lice, chiggers, fleas, chickenpox, the mumps, the measles, whooping cough (twice!), and shingles. He'd been locked out of the house all night in the rain four times, and once he'd been old enough to be interested in girls, his brothers made a point of seducing every girl he liked.

But his brothers had always been there for him. When he got beat up for having fleas and wearing clothing older than he was, his brothers had put the bullies in the hospital, and then beat him up for not being able to solve his problems on his own. His brothers had taught him to shoplift, how to land a punch and how to take one, how to get a girl's attention, and how to shoot a gun. Even if they treated him like shit, they were his brothers, and they cared about him on some deep, emotional level, the existence of which he vehemently denied.

They were his family, and Scout loved each and every one of them. He spent all of his time with them growing up, and the isolation of the fort was something entirely new to him. It frightened him, actually. He spent ceasefires trailing various members of the team around until they snapped at him to find someone else to bother. Once he'd exhausted his supply of people to annoy, he'd go outside and hit a few balls against the wall with the Sandman. Until someone yelled that he was going to break a window, of course.

He was lonely and he missed his brothers, not that he'd ever admit it. That's why he was following the Engineer around base, chatting at him while he fixed leaky faucets and patched the plaster. It was the first day of a three-day ceasefire, and he had nothing to do.

He liked Engineer. He was the only person who never yelled at him. He didn't seem to enjoy Scout's company, and was occasionally downright dismissive, but Scout admired him. He was smart and nobody messed with him. Even Medic (who hated Scout with a passion) respected Engineer, and occasionally asked him for advice. He didn't talk very much, but when he did, everyone listened.

Engineer was fixing the light in Spy's room. The Frenchman had done something with an experimental new sapper that had shorted out half of the lights in the base. Engineer hadn't been able to find anything wrong with the fuse box, so he was standing on a rickety ladder examining the wiring in Spy's room. He had spent half of the day trying to restore electricity, and he was getting extremely frustrated.

Scout was perched on Spy's desk chair, oblivious as ever. "…So then he's all 'Yeah? Prove it!' so then I ate it! I was barfing for an entire week, but I made ten bucks!" He paused, waiting for some response from Engineer.

The Texan usually made some sign of having listened to Scout's stories. He always grunted or gave a distracted "Yeah," when Scout finished talking, but he didn't respond in any way. Scout thought maybe he hadn't heard him.

"Didja hear?" he said, louder. "I made ten bucks!" He hesitated again, but didn't wait as long before speaking again. "Ten dollars!" he shouted. "An' I didn't hafta do anything illegal!"

Engineer pulled his head out of the access panel. "Scout," he said levelly, "Are you going to help me?"

Scout was confused. "No?"

"Well then," said Engineer. "SHUT UP OR GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

Scout felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He jumped to his feet and ran out of the room, eyes burning. He slammed the door behind him and sprinted down the stairs, a lump in his throat. He took the Sandman from its place by the fort's back door, and ran out into the afternoon sun.

He ran the length of the exercise yard a few times, feet pounding the earth and arms pumping. The knot in his stomach failed to subside, so he stopped running. He flopped on the sun-packed ground, chest heaving. If he were at home, one of his brothers would have hit him by now. "Whatcha cryin' for, ya pussy? You a girl? Ya gonna cry like a little girl?" The thought made his stomach cramp. He scrubbed his eyes furiously with the back of his hand.

"I'm not crying," he said. The empty yard offered no response, and he felt stupid for talking to himself. He got to his feet, and started hitting balls against the wall. He liked the sound they made hitting the wall, and running after balls that bounced funny gave him something to do.

He was starting to feel a little better when one of the balls hit the wall and rolled towards the door, coming to stop at Engineer's feet. Scout skidded to a stop. "Oh. Hey," he said. He hated his voice for wavering slightly.

"Hey," said Engineer. He picked the ball up and stared at it. "I heard ya hitting balls against the wall out here." Scout said nothing. "Figgered you might want some company," Engineer said, still not quite looking at him.

Scout knew a peace offering when he saw one. Engineer stepped out of the doorframe where he'd been standing. He threw the ball to Scout, his movements jerky and awkward. Scout couldn't help but smile a little bit.

"Nice throw, chucklehead."

"I ain't played ball in years," he said defensively. Scout laughed and threw it back. Engineer caught it, but dropped it, and it rolled away. He glowered at the ball, but stooped to pick it back up. He threw it, but it curved wildly, and Scout had to go running after it. He bent to pick the ball up, and tossed it back to Engineer in one fluid motion.

The Texan managed to catch the ball this time, but he needed to use both hands. The ball went to Scout when he threw it, but it hit the ground on the way there. Scout laughed again, and expertly fielded the ball, and threw it back.

By the time the sun went down, Engineer was managing to catch most of what was thrown at him. His throwing motion was smoother and more controlled, but his aim was wild. The ball only went towards what he was throwing at half the time.

As they walked back into the base, Engineer removed his hardhat and rubbed his shaved head. "Listen boy, I never apologized for shouting at ya earlier."

"S'all right," Scout said. Apologies were new territory for him.

"No, I shouldn't have yelled at ya. I'm sorry, Scout. Yer- Yer a decent kid, and I don't think anyone says that enough. We need ya around, even if ya do talk too much."

The knot in his stomach eased. "Thanks, Hardhat. You're not bad, even if ya don't talk enough." Engineer cuffed him, but it was a friendly gesture. He shoved Engineer playfully and ran into the dining hall, laughing. Engineer chuckled and followed him in.

Scout was finally starting to feel like a member of the team.


End file.
